


Black and White

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Final Fantasy IV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-20
Updated: 2007-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 09:02:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1642961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the Tower of Zot, perhaps it was like she said perhaps they were the same, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black and White

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Lassarina Aoibhell

 

 

Kain had determined, in a matter of five minutes back in Baron, that there was something very wrong with the Four Devils.

It wasn't that they had control over an elemental magick, or even that they had the uncanny ability to know what the other was thinking, or where they were walking, or even what they needed at the given time. No, it was most decidedly that they took a perverse amount of pleasure in torturing some of the Baron underlings that roamed the halls, and that they seemed to have absolutely no concept of remorse.

Perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised by itÐ after all, they were Devils, and they never claimed to be anything but. And yet, it was still strange, more strange than everything else, when he watched Milan mercilessly clawing one of the guards with his claws, over and over again, that he felt his first shiver of fear.

\------

He put up with the acts of torture only because he couldn't do anything else. The control in his head was strong, and he could barely lift a finger on his own before the blanket of whispers slammed back down around his shoulders. It felt coldÐ like a fire that produced no heat. He could not very well stop the Devils from doing as they pleased if he had no control over his body and speech. Besides, letting them to as they pleased seemed to keep them away from torturing him instead.

It wasn't until they got to the Tower of Zot that he truly had to deal with them. Milan was already discharged and buried somewhere in the pebbles lining the base of Mt. Ordeals, and Cagnazzo had long since given up his guise as the King of BaronÐ Kain could not think back to how painful the realization had been, for it was simply too much. There were only two left, and Rubicante rarely spent time in the Tower. He seemed more logical than the others, more together, and he had, apparently, an operation of his own to see to, away from Zot and the Magus sisters and Golbez's iron fist.

There was only Valvalicia left, and even though Kain hated how she would materialize in front of him in seemingly empty hallways, and how she would wrap her hair around his ankles when she thought he wasn't paying attention, he knew how to handle her, and he did not fear her as he had the others.

Perhaps that is why, when he saw her in the upper most chamber by Rosa's trembling form, her fingernails brushing gracefully across the mage's cheek, that he reacted so strongly.

"Get away from her," he barked, and was surprised when the Devil of Wind did not immediately jump away. She merely glanced at him, coy and devious, as if amused.

"Or what?" she drawled, repeating the motion up the side of Rosa's face. "You'll glare at me?"

"Don't make me stop you," he said. The blanket was heavy around his shoulders, preventing movement, but it wasn't stopping his speechÐ apparently Golbez did not find his feelings for Rosa to be a threat. The mage was trembling in her chair, eyes wide and sparkling with unshed tears, and she looked vulnerable in the harsh glow. Valvalicia stepped back, toes barely scraping the tiles of the floor, and she smiled smugly.

"Little Dragoon," she cooed. "So protective of the girl. Why is that, I wonder?"

"Don't hurt her," he choked out. The barrier was starting to fall, and he was afraid that if he didn't get the Devil out of the chamber immediately, that he would lose what little control he had. "We need her alive."

It was true, and yet not, and she knew as well as he did.

"Ah," she laughed. The sound twinkled around him, echoing almost painfully. She turned her head to look at Rosa again, hands on her hips, and the action caused her tendrils of hair to bend and curl and fall over upon themselves on the floor. In the light, her hair looked to be made of gold. "You humans are a cruel lot."

"That's something, coming from you," he said.

"Why?" she asked, and he was startled, because she didn't seem to be goading himÐ merely asking out of curiosity.

"You torture for fun," he answered. "You kill without regret. You willingly hurt others of your kind."

"And do you not?" she shot back. When he was silent, she cocked her head to one side, flaxen strands falling over her shoulder and pooling between her breasts. "Your country has murdered for the crystals under commandÐ how is this different?"

"It was manipulation," he said, frowning.

"And she," Valvalicia began, moving to circle the chair binding Rosa, her fingers sweeping over the mage's shoulders and face, "has hurt you, too."

"No," Kain started to protest, and then stopped. The truth wasÐ well, yes, she hadÐ but he could not very well say that to a Devil. Searching wildly, he finally settled on a response. "It's different."

"Oh?" Valvalicia asked, hands on either side of Rosa's face, eyes wide. Kain met Rosa's gaze, and could almost see the plea in her eyes. The heaviness on his shoulders was lifting a bit, as if pulling away, and he wondered vaguely if he would be able to move should he try. "She scorned you. She chose another over you."

He could not answer, and the Devil leaned down by Rosa's cheek.

"She hurt you because she was selfish," she continued. "She hurt you because she did not care."

"No," Kain said, but his attempt was feeble at best.

"You humans," Valvalicia said, straightening. "You humans preach and lecture and punish, and you do it to each other every day. You cause misery and pain and anguish, and not a single one of you shows remorse for it."

"It's not like that," Kain tried to interject, and then, meekly, Rosa piped up with a timid cry of "Kain?"

"Ah, look," Valvalicia said, laughing again. "Now she wants your mercy."

Maybe it was the shadow of control hanging over him, or the voice in the back of his head that whispered commands, but he felt himself agreeing with her. The pain in his heart was real, just as real as when he'd found himself at Golbez's feet, blown back from the earthquake outside Mist. And it had been caused by the white mage seated in front of him, there was no denying that. Intentional or not, his anguish was on her hands. He stared at her, vision swimming, and then looked up at Valvalicia, who seemed smug and pleased.

"So you see?" she asked, running her fingers down Rosa's cheek again. Her fingernails dug deep, drawing crimson droplets of blood against the alabaster of the mage's skin. "We are not so different after all."

He stared at the scene, wishing that every nerve in his head wasn't screaming it's true it's true you are the same she hurt you, that there was no possible way they were the same. He failed to notice Rosa's whimpering, and he did not even flinch when Valvalicia moved from behind the chair to his side. He could not feel her fingers caressing his armor, but he knew they were there, and it was enough.

"What do you want?" he whispered, trying desperately to ignore Rosa's crying.

"I think we are more the same than you want to believe," she told him, and then she leaned in, mouth near his ear, breath hot against his neck. There was a moment of pause, and she licked his cheek. Her tongue felt like a whirlwind in itself.

"No," he said, but again, his rejection was half-hearted. There was something delicious in the feel of her tongue against his flesh. She stepped away, and from the expression on her face, he knew that she sensed his weakness as well, and when she left, there was a flurry of wind. He stayed there a moment, fighting back both the rising nausea and the guilt playing at the back of his mind, and then finally turned to Rosa.

She didn't say anything, but maybe she didn't have to. It was written across her features, a thousand emotionsÐ regret, loss, fearÐ and he would have felt bad save for the nagging feeling in the back of his thoughts that the Devil had been right. Rosa had not chosen him, and as such, he had been plagued with heart-ache and sleepless nights. No amount of longing could change that fact. He could not change what she had done to him, but he could alter his own future, could manipulate things that were within his control.

He said nothing to Rosa, and left the chambers.

\-------

Two nights later, he found himself at the Devil's door, pushing it open. He knew they did not sleep, not like humans, anyway, but he knew still that nighttime was a calm for her, when the wind did not howl around her. She did not seem surprised when he walked in, nor did she make him leave. He closed the door behind him with a soft click.

"Ah," she sighed, the sound breathy. "I was right."

She moved to him, fingers caressing the exposed skin on his face, and when she took his helmet off, it was slow and deliberate. There was nothing abstract about her form, and little left to the imagination, but he could see the desire shining just as bright in her eyes as in anyone else's. That part of her, at least, was real.

"About what?" he asked, as she began unhinging his chest plate and shoulder guards. The metal fell away with resounding clangs against the floor, and her hands were warm and sensual against his skin. He had not been touched in a very long time, and he had to fight back the urge to give in completely.

"You," she said, and then, as she pulled away his hand bracers, "us. We are the same."

"Yes," he agreed. It was what she wanted to hear, and he couldn't see the harm in giving it to her. She threw her head back, throat exposed, skin glistening in the dim, flickering light. It was heady, the expression on her face. He let himself reach out and touch her, trailing one finger down to her collarbone.

"You will see," she murmured, as he continued his reverence to her form, "that there are no lines between us. It is not black and white, this existence."

"Nothing ever is," he mused, and then his hand found her breast, and she said nothing more.

 


End file.
